blood on the dining room floor
by Prince Jun
Summary: the headlines will read, "they died in each other's arms."


he smiles at her with an almost dazed expression because, wow, leon never imagined he would be here. here. with maizono sayaka? please. even the hottest girl at his old school could not compare. maizono is more than just a pretty face, isn't she? she's talented. she's super high-school level. better than the best girl.

he never dreamed he would be on a date with maizono sayaka. especially not at a place like this, the sort of place with a dress code and civilized diners and leon's a little nervous. the closest he's ever been to an actual restaurant is his local mcdonald's, and it doesn't even compare.

sayaka gives him a reassuring smile, he thinks it is. what a lovely face. leon has never been skilled with traditional romantics, but he thinks he's doing something right, for her to look at him like this.

at the very least, he hasn't fucked up yet.

their food arrives and leon's not entirely sure what the hell they ordered - the menu was made up of too many characters leon couldn't read, sayaka had to do it for him. she'll likely end up paying for it, too, considering the extravagent prices. how embarrassing.

sayaka doesn't seem to mind, though it could just be one of those tricks girls like to pull on him. pretending everything is okay until _you_ get mad at _them_, or you forget your week anniversary, or something. it's not like leon really understands women.

everything is silent for a while; mostly the only sound he hears is the clacking of their silverware and the occasional whispered small talk. he's still tense but he's started to relax now. it's not as bad as he might've expected, though he would still rather not relive this experience. no, everything is calm and silent and he's almost joyful, actually, until the murmur of a single word reaches his ears.

"die."

leon's face falls and he looks up to see sayaka gripping the tablecloth, her knuckles white. he can't see her face, she's hanging her head, but he knows she's the one who said it.

"die," she repeats, and it sounds like she's crying. without warning she leaps at him with her steak knife in hand and all leon can think to do is throw the table up as a sort of shield. he takes a knife of his own in his trembling fingers and god oh god why is she doing this?

"don't...don't run away," sayaka says, sobbing and choking and just absolutely mad. "please. you know the rules, don't you?"

he doesn't. leon has no idea what sort of game maizono's playing and it's all he can do to keep from screaming. his breath comes in short, sharp gasps and he's going to hyperventilate, he's sure of it.

"die." she says it so calmly. "you have to die, remember?" she holds the knife up. "remember what monokuma said?"

he doesn't know who monokuma is.

"to get out of here, we have to kill somebody. somebody has to die, and then we graduate. the killer graduates. i will be free." her face twists into a horrifying smile, cheshire cat wide and just as unsettling. "please, kuwata-kun...die!"

and she's after him again and leon is hyper-aware of his every movement, every single twitch of his muscles. he rolls away as she dives at him, tightening his grip on his knife, and jumps up. it's almost as if they're fencing each other, leon deftly blocking her attacks as though he's been doing this for years. every now and then she lands a blow and it stings, blood all over his hands and arms. this goes on for...minutes? seconds? years? leon's not sure. he can't even feel time.

it is not long after he thinks of this that it's over.

it's a sickening sound, the squelching sort of noise their knives make as they dig into each others chests and their warm blood all over them. seeping into leon's suit and sayaka's dress and all over the carpet as they fall. they both tear up, though neither of them is sure why. feeling betrayed? broken? simply the pain of dying?

they lay on the bloody ground, breathing heavily. breaths slowing. stopping. stop. blood gushing with every heartbeat until it stops. stop. they don't struggle anymore. the look on their faces, their hollow expressions, it looks like they're gazing at each other with loving eyes.

god. they are such terrible guests. the other diners must think they were raised by wolves.


End file.
